-Do Not Let Go Of Hope-
by WingedIceWolf
Summary: During the events in the Mines Of Moria, Legolas is gravely wounded trying to protect Frodo from the cave troll. Lothlorien is far and Aragorn fears for his companion's life. Frodo takes Legolas's wounding and Gandalf's death upon himself while Aragorn, knowing the pain regret and guilt can cause, attempts to comfort Frodo and explain that the events in Moria are not his fault.
1. Chapter 1 -Pain-

**Hello my lovely readers! Here is another Fanfiction. I haven't been able to do much in the way of Fanfiction due to problems with Helicobacter Pylori, the overgrowth of bacteria in the stomach. I will catch up on other stories later on, but for now, enjoy this. Please read and review!**

 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_

 _ **DISCLAIMER: THERE IS NO WAY IN FRIKIN MORDOR THAT I OWN LORD OF THE RINGS! LORD OF THE RINGS BELONGS TO J.R.R. TOLKIEN AND PETER JACKSON!**_

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Gandalf The Grey bent down and pulled a crumbling, colored by dried blood book from the bony hands of a corpse. It seemed the old and damaged pages would simply disintegrate upon touch, many falling out upon the opening of the book. The wizard blew upon the old text, causing dust to fly into the air as a look of concern crossed his old face.

"We must move on, we cannot linger," Legolas said in a hushed voice to the Ranger standing beside him. Fear began to eat away at the elf, worm its way into his heart and play his insecurities like strings upon a harp. As soon as he had set foot in the mines, now nothing but a tomb and abundance for the goblins and orcs that dwelled within the walls, he wanted to coil back. But cowardice was not an option, nor would it ever be for the Prince of Mirkwood.

Gandalf read from the text, his grey-blue eyes following the Dwarvish runes. "They have taken the Bridge and the second hall," the Wizard read quietly. "We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. Will no one save us? They are coming."

Suddenly, a loud clang echoed throughout the room as the head of a corpse fell from its perch upon the well, tumbling and hitting against stone. Pippin had frozen in his place, turned and looked up at the Wizard as the rest of the corpse slunk down the well, causing bangs and clatters to echo throughout the mines. Shortly thereafter, a rusted bucket fell down the seemingly endless pit.

With every thud, clank, and bang, Pippin cringed. Finally, the dusty corpse and the chained bucket hit the last floor, sending a loud bang echoing throughout the mines. Gandalf snatched his hat and his staff from the hobbit's hold, anger burning in his eyes.

"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" Gandalf growled. Pippin hang his head shamefully in response.

A silence fell over the nine members of the Fellowship as a deep _boom_ sounded below.

Two roaring booms.

The booms began to grow louder and more deafening, like rolling thunder during a storm. Several, blood curdling shrieks, growls, and snarls began to fill the depths. The sound of feet slapping upon hard stone amplified their terror.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried, looking to the Ring Bearer's belt where the Elvish Blade, Sting glowed ever so slightly, concealed by its sheathe. Frodo took up the hilt and slightly unsheathed Sting to find that the blade was glowing a bright blue.

"Orcs!" Legolas cried. Boromir rushed to close the wooden doors to Balin's Tomb, only to barely miss two arrows that penetrated the wood, wobbling. Despite the threat of the arrows, Boromir, with the aid of Aragorn and Legolas, slammed the door shut.

"Get back! Stay close to Gandalf!" Aragorn demanded, pushing the hobbits back and dropping his torch to aid in barring the wooden door, closing with a loud creak.

"They have a cave troll," Boromir said in an as-a-matter-of-fact way as Legolas began to throw them the axes that were scattered across the ground, stepping back and knocking an arrow to his bowstring. Gandalf unsheathed Glamdring, the other hobbits unsheathing their blades and huddling close together, eyes fixated upon the door.

Gimli leapt upon Balin's tombstone, two rusty axes in each hand. "Let them come!" he spat. "There is one Dwarf yet in Moria that still draws breath!"

The wooden door began to quiver, the tips of axes, spears, and swords breaking through the rot, tearing the door. Legolas shot an arrow through a gap in the door with a twang of his bowstring, the arrow hitting its target with a thump and a screech of pain, Aragorn following pursuit with his bow.

The door burst, sending splinters and chunks of wood across the room. At least twenty or more orcs flooded in, snarling and screaming as they swung blindly and recklessly. Legolas tried desperately to shield the hobbits with his own body, firing arrow after arrow into the thick and ugly head of the orcs, Aragorn unsheathing his blade and cutting through the fleshy limbs of the beings.

Boromir rammed his shield into the bodies and heads of the Uruk-hai dodging blows and blocking with his blade, delivering a series of uppercuts and other various attacks with the loud ring of steel meeting steel. Gandalf charged into the battle with a yell, the hobbits breaking from their huddle and duplicating the action.

Several severed heads rolled onto the ground, orcs screaming and hissing as they furiously attacked. The fellowship all stopped as an orc tugged on a chain, a large, pale skinned cave troll smashing through stone as it was dragged into the room, letting out a roar of rage.

Almost immediately, Legolas fired an arrow into the troll's shoulder, causing it to roar in both pain and anger as it brought down its large stone club, Sam barely managing to dive between the troll's legs to avoid the attack. Furious that the creature had missed its target, it turned to face the hobbit who was now cornered, raising its foot to end him, but the near-victory did not last long as the chain around the troll's neck began to tighten, being pulled back by Aragorn and Boromir.

The troll spun with yet another roar, swinging its large arm low enough to catch Boromir off guard and throw him into the upper wall as if he were a ragdoll, the Gondorian hitting his head against the cracked stone, collapsing and rolling off the edge onto the ground, temporarily down for the count.

Aragorn turned just in time to see an orc raise its blade over Boromir's head, who had barely regained consciousness. The orc was just about ready to drive the blade into the Gondorian's heart, Aragorn throwing his sword perfectly, in a manner that the blade impaled the orc's neck, giving Boromir enough time to regain his footing. Boromir glanced over at Aragorn who nodded in a quick "You're welcome".

Next was Gimli's turn to harm the pale skinned creature, hurtling his axe at its breast. The troll let out another scream, bringing the club down and smashing Balin's Tombstone into pieces. Gimli managed to jump off the tomb just in time to avoid being crushed, the hobbits hiding behind a pillar as the cave troll swung blindly, smashing orcs in the process.

Legolas once again found an opening and knocked two arrows onto his bowstring simultaneously, firing. The troll stumbled back, but Legolas found himself again surrounded by orcs, unsheathing his elven daggers, swift on his feet as he stabbed the blades into the tough flesh of his opponents.

The elf narrowly avoided the troll's whip-like chain, ducking down as it swung yet again, tearing through stone and sending debris across the room. Legolas managed to dodge the chain, drawing the troll closer and closer to a pillar until the creature lashed out yet again, the chain wrapping itself around the pillar, causing the troll to become trapped as it attempted to tear the chain free.

Legolas leapt upon the chain and ran across it, leaping onto the troll's back and releasing two arrows into the troll's head, leaping down as it swerved and screamed.

Sam smashed his frying pan into the heads of several orcs, feeling a bit more confident as they began to fall at his feet. "I think I'm getting the hang of this!" Sam breathed.

The three hobbits had rounded a corner, only to be met with the cave troll yet again. Pippin let out a cry of terror as the troll's club nearly smashed him, Merry and Pippin both being forced to dash to the left, separating them and Frodo.

"Frodo!" Aragorn yelled out before stabbing an orc in the stomach. Frodo hid behind a pillar and held his breath as the troll sniffed the air, him moving to a different side of the pillar in attempt to avoid the troll. He took a deep breath, believing he had lost it, but the troll appeared around the corner of the pillar and roared, saliva hitting Frodo's face as he fell back in surprise and fear, the troll's fat fingers closing around his leg and pulling him back.

"Aragorn!" Frodo screamed desperately, clutching onto a stone wedge. "Aragorn!"

The Ranger had rammed into the wall with a groan, looking to see Frodo struggling. Aragorn screamed "No!" before rushing to Frodo's aid, leaping in front of him and stabbing a spear into the troll's breast.

The creature swerved and roared as Merry and Pippin threw rocks at it in attempt to distract it, but the move only resulted in more anger, the troll's arm slamming into Aragorn, sending him crashing into a pillar. The terrible force caused Aragorn to lose consciousness, Frodo shaking him frantically as the troll brought down the spear, the hobbit reeling back in fear, trying to escape but cornered yet again like a frightened mouse.

Legolas's blue eyes widened upon seeing Aragorn unconscious and Frodo about to be penetrated. He scanned the room, trying to find a quick way to stop the attack, or at least throw the troll off course, but none of the fellowship members were near enough.

It was then that the prince made a decision, racing to Frodo's side without a second thought, just as the spear came hurtling at Frodo. Legolas held up his bow to block the attack, not even having the time to unsheathe his daggers, but like a twig, his bow snapped in half, the spear impaling his chest.

The Mirkwood Prince's own scream rang in his ears, feeling the cold steel against his flesh, the terrible pain that threatened to end him, face contorted in agony. Immediately, warm blood pooled from the fresh wound, crimson soaking him, dribbling out of his mouth and painting the stone ground.

"Legolas!" Frodo and several other voices cried, but already, their voices sounded distant. The room spun around Legolas before the elf unwillingly collapsed at Frodo's feet.

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 _ **Aaaand there's a cliffie. Muahaha.**_

 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_


	2. Chapter 2 -Drums In The Deep-

Hello my lovelies! So sorry for the long wait, I've been sick with the flu and have had exams to deal with. With the time avaliable to me, I've managed to write the newest chapter for you all! Enjoy!

 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_

 _ **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN LORD OF THE RINGS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. THEY BELONG TO J.R.R TOLKIEN AND PETER JACKSON!**_

* * *

Aragorn awoke to the sound of screaming. But...Was it his own?

 _No._

This was a scream he had rarely heard, a scream he wished he would have few the opportunity to perceive, yet it was all too distinguishable; the scream that threatened to wrench his heart from his chest, brought tears to his grey-green eyes. The scream he was hearing right now was none other than his best friend's wail of agony.

 _Legolas._

The Ranger watched helplessly as Legolas sank to his knees, a spear impaled in his chest, crimson running from his mouth, eyes unfocused. Frodo stood trembling behind him with wide eyes, his own scream of terror caught in his throat, frozen in place.

It was as if the entire world halted in that moment. For every Fellowship member had gone still with shock. Even the Troll stood in complete disturbance, its mouth agape. But, within seconds, that shock was replaced with complete want for vengeance, rage, and despair.

By the time the Troll had realized it's utter mistake, it was all too late. The creature pulled the spear from Legolas's limp body and brushed him aside with its toe, turning to the Fellowship who raced at it with weapons drawn, releasing cries of fury and rally.

Quickly, the remaining members of the Fellowship were upon the creature, grappling onto it and stabbing into the hard flesh viciously and mercilessly. Yet again, the Troll snarled and roared in rage, thrashing and ramming itself into the wall in attempt to throw both Boromir and Merry off its back, both of which had caused deep gashes in the creature's shoulders.

"Jump to the breast!" Boromir cried. "Now!"

And with that, the halfling and the Gondorian managed to swerve to the front of the creature just in time, clutching onto its bloodied breast as debris came upon them, dust flying into the air as rocks and fractals of pillar rained down. Trying to keep a hold on the creature was more difficult than they planned, but they both danced to the creature's back after dragging their blades through the creature's stomach, acid and blood showering them.

Gimli slashed at the feet of the Troll with his axe, barely managing to dodge a strike of its chain in the process. This "dodge", however, resulted in a pillar being demolished, crashing down upon the Troll's head. Boromir and Merry were nearly flattened by the pillar, but Boromir had flung out his leg and struck Merry just in time, causing the hobbit to fall, then leapt himself.

"Merry!" Pippin cried, rushing to his side.

Merry let out a shout of surprise as hit the ground, a groan of pain following, but it was short lived as the air was knocked from his lungs. He gasped for breath Boromir rushing in front of Merry to bring up his shield as the chain tore into it. If wood could shatter, that's how Boromir would have described the incident. The Gondorian's shield splintered into many fragments, leaving only a handle in his hand.

"Get back you two!" Boromir said, turning to the hobbits. The troll was temporarily distracted by Gimli, but had seemed to forget it had a spear in its hand. "Over there!" He jerked his head toward a pillar that had fallen, debris piled with it. There was confusion in the hobbits faces, but they soon understood that they could take advantage of the fallen debris, running and scrambling over the debris to hide behind it.

"Merry, are you alright?!" Pippin asked with obvious concern in his voice after pulling Merry over the wall of debris, watching his cousin struggle to breathe, a grimace upon his face. Pippin could see the pain in Merry's sapphire blue eyes.

"M fine P-pip," Merry replied, forcing a smile, though his body raced with pain. He was positive he had broken a few ribs in the fall; every breath was painful. He didn't wish to complain about his situation, knowing far well that Legolas was in a worse condition than him.

 _I hate feeling so helpless…_

"Stay here and stay down, alright Merry? You're going to be alright," Pippin said in a shaky voice, despite the fact he attempted to keep it unwavering. Merry opened his mouth to speak, Pippin placing a finger to his cousin's lips. "Please…"

Pippin scrambled up the wall and charged at the Troll.

Meanwhile, Sam, Aragorn, and Gandalf had all rushed to Frodo and Legolas's aid. Frodo was frozen, trembling with tears streaming down his face, continuously mumbling, "It's all my fault…It's all my fault…It's all my fault…"

"It's alright, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, trying to comfort Frodo. "Mr. Legolas is going to be alright. We're all going to be alright…"

"He's bleeding internally. His lung has been punctured, it seems…But thankfully, not directly, seeing as the troll was aiming for Frodo, it had to aim lower to hit him, resulting in a lower shot upon Legolas. Nonetheless, the wound is severe. Had his bow not taken a fraction of the impact, I'm afraid our elven companion would be dead where he stood…" Gandalf spoke. "The fact he still clutches onto life now…" The Wizard trailed off.

Aragorn carefully moved Legolas's head into his lap, pressing his forehead against his in a brotherly manner. Legolas's skin was already cold, pale. It felt as if his friend would shatter upon touch, scarlet soaking his body. Aragorn had tried to stop the bleeding, but only felt his companion's warm blood between his fingers.

" _Apsene- me, Legolas…_ " Aragorn said softly, trying to hold back tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Legolas barely managed to reply, the life leaving him more and more quickly as every second dragged on.

" _Tar na- úqua ana apsene-, Aragorn…_ "

"Can you help him?" Aragorn asked quietly, looking up at Gandalf with pleading eyes. The Wizard could see a spark of hope in his eyes, yet it slowly began to die down.

Gandalf allowed his hand to hover over the Elf's chest, focusing and whispering under his breath. The gaping wound upon Legolas's chest slowly began to close, skin coming together, leaving only a scar where the wound once was, yet the blood that had spilled from the wound remained. Gandalf's eyes opened, he sighed sadly.

"Is he going to live?" Sam asked quietly. Gandalf's gaze flicked to Sam and Frodo and then Aragorn and Legolas.

"I am sorry, Aragorn. That is all I can do for him," the Wizard said sadly. "I cannot guarantee that what I have done will ultimately result in his survival…"

"I understand," Aragorn replied, eyes closed, taking a deep breath, but his voice cracked nonetheless. "Thank you…For your aid."

"Aragorn!" Boromir's voice rang.

Sam's, Frodo's, and Aragorn's heads snapped up. The Gondorian had found a rusted shield lying upon the ground within the tomb, now using that, but with Pippin knocked unconscious, the fellowship was struggling to keep their ground. Aragorn was now torn between choosing his Fellowship, or what could be his childhood friend's last moments of life.

 _He will not die in vain…_

Aragorn arose, Legolas's blood now his new war paint. He took hold of his blade, clutching tightly onto the hilt, fire burning in his eyes. The Troll was bleeding severely from many gashes, wounds, and scrapes, blood bubbling from its flaring nostrils every time it let out a breath. It threw the spear at him, but Aragorn managed to easily dodge the object due to the Troll's worsening coordination.

The creature lashed out with its chain, but Aragorn dashed to the side so that the chain wrapped around a pillar, getting caught as the chain doubled on itself. The Troll grew angered, roaring and thrashing insanely, but Aragorn only rushed up while he had the chance, moving swiftly and quickly. In one brief move, he leaped onto the creature's arm, using it to get himself onto its back, the same tactic Merry and Boromir had used, and cut the head from the Troll.

Hot blood sprayed Aragorn, but the death of the Troll did not satisfy his want for vengeance. The creature's body sank to the ground and hit the stone floor with a loud thump, the head rolling away from them. The Troll's tongue lolled out of its mouth, eyes wide. Aragorn stood triumphant over his enemy, body tense, breathing with adrenaline in his veins, adrenaline that bubbled and boiled with hatred.

Boromir immediately dropped his shield and scrambled over to Pippin who remained unconscious.

"Hey, Half-Pint! Wake up!" he slapped Pippin's already bruised cheek. Pippin's eyes snapped open, fist driving into Boromir's nose upon instinct. The Gondorian staggered backwards, clutching to his nose as tears sprang to his eyes from the pain, blood starting to run down his face.

"I-I am so sorry!" Pippin cried, expecting Boromir to hit him back, curling up into a ball.

"N-no no no!" Bormoir began, still clutching to his nose. "It's a-alright. I kind of d-deserved it." He crouched beside Pippin, wiping his bloodied nose on his sleeve, carefully touching Pippin's head. The hobbit winced in pain as Boromir pulled his hand away, sticky with blood. "Follow my finger with just your eyes, alright?"

Pippin nodded slightly, but also dazedly as he followed Boromir's finger. His eyes bounced back and forth, unable to stay focused on their target.

"Concussion," Boromir mumbled.

"Con what…?" Pippin replied.

"Where's the other Half-Pint?" Boromir asked, concern in his voice. The relief showed in his face as Pippin pointed to the pile of debris. Boromir scrambled over it, wrapping his arms around Merry's waist, pulling him out of the rubble. Merry yelped in pain, causing Boromir to flinch.

"Are you alright, Merry?" Boromir spoke softly, not wanting to frighten the hobbit any more than he already was.

Merry looked up to respond but was interrupted.

 _Boom._

 _Boom boom._

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This chapter is dedicated to _**Lydwina Marie**_

Thank you for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing! I really appreciate it to know that my fanfiction works are enjoyed by others. See you sometime later, my lovies!  
 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_

 _ **Translations:**_

 **"Apsene- me, Legolas…"** _\- Forgive me Legolas..._

 **"Tar na- úqua ana apsene-, Aragorn…"** \- _There is nothing to forgive, Aragorn_


	3. Chapter 3 -Grief-

Hello my lovelies! I am so sorry for the long wait, school is done now so I should be able to get more chapters updated more often. Thank you for being so patient with me. Please read and enjoy!  
 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_

 _ **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN LORD OF THE RINGS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS!**_

* * *

"To the bridge of Khazad-dum!" Gandalf cried. Aragorn slung the unconscious Legolas over his back, receiving a cry of pain from the older companion. The ranger apologized under his breath, but turned to the fellowship, shouting, "Hurry!"

Merry's eyes slid closed, falling unconscious in Boromir's arms. The Gondorian felt his heart skip a beat, blue eyes widening in fear.

 _Not another one…_

The golden-haired hobbit's chest slowly rose and fell in an odd pattern of breath as Boromir lifted him, though his face showed obvious pain. He let out a sigh of relief.

 _Thank the Valar._

He slung the hobbit over his back, wrapping his arms around Merry's legs. Merry clutched tightly onto him, being carried this way only worsening the pain caused by his broken ribs. "You're going to be alright, half-pint. Hold on."

Normally, Boromir would consider this kind of behavior strange and unnecessary, but as his time with the Fellowship progressed, he had come to see Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took as his brothers, something he should and _would_ protect. Even if it meant his life.

Pippin stood and rushed after Boromir as Gandalf hurriedly guided the Fellowship into the chambers of Dwarrowdelf. Gandalf's light upon his staff revealed several goblins, clinging to the walls, snarling and shrieking, scrambling over one another like cockroaches. Their cries echoed throughout the large chambers, sending shivers down Frodo's spine.

Aragorn realized that at this point, he wouldn't have much of a chance to defend the fellowship, or himself for that matter, having to carry Legolas. Glancing behind him, hoping Boromir could provide some means of defense, his hope dwindled when he saw the Gondorian gingerly carrying the injured hobbit upon his back.

The goblins began to rush toward them, screaming, snarling, yapping and shrieking. The Fellowship grew closer to one another, Pippin whipping his head around, frightened at the sight of so many goblins surrounding them. Sam, with frying pan in hand, stood guard over Frodo, breathing heavily. Just as the goblins were about to lunge at them, a bright glow danced in the hallway behind them, followed by an ear-breaking roar.

The goblins shrank back, some climbing backwards up the pillars like spiders, others fading into the shadows. A deep rumble shook the ground and pillars around them, causing the goblins to shriek yet again.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked, trying to keep his voice unwavering, instinctively clutching tighter to Merry, pulling Pippin closer.

A shadow, unlike any they had ever seen, fell at their feet as the halls rumbled and shook, firelight dancing and flickering against cold, cracked stone walls.

"A Balrog, a demon of the ancient world," Gandalf replied quickly. "This foe is beyond any of you! Run! Quickly!"

It was then that they saw the huge, powerful, ominous and horrifying creature. Engulfed in flames with large and powerful wings folded at its body, horns curling around its head as its nostrils flared, fire curling from out them. In one of its huge, fiery hands it grasped a blazing blade, the other hand clutching a long whip.

As the fellowship stood, eyes wide, some with mouths agape, others shriveling in fear, the heat of the powerful and large creature hit them, like being trapped within a furnace. Worse, mount doom itself. Even standing so far from the creature, their skin burnt and the heat radiating from the creature began to blaze their surroundings, the smell of smoke filling the hall.

Aragorn rushed, and the remainder of the fellowship followed hastily in pursuit, to the top of a winding staircase that shook with every step of the Balrog. Gandalf had fallen behind them, leaning upon his staff as he caught up to them, breathing heavily. Aragorn cast the Wizard a look of concern, looking back to the Balrog, then Gandalf.

"Lead them on, Aragorn, the bridge is near," Gandalf spoke firmly. The ranger hesitated, grey-green eyes falling upon the Balrog yet again. He stepped forward, sword brandished, but the wizard shoved him back. "Do as I say! Swords are of no use here!"

The fellowship raced down the stairway, with Aragorn in lead. Unfortunately, he struggled to run, not wanting to harm his injured companion, but ran as hastily as possible. There came a point when Gandalf was shouting at them, but Aragorn was in pure adrenaline mode, unable to hear exactly what the Wizard was saying.

"Take Legolas!" Aragorn demanded as the fellowship came to a gaping chasm, carefully sliding his wounded companion off him. Legolas let out a groan of pain in reply, but Boromir carefully wrapped one arm around Legolas's torso, holding him up as Aragorn leapt across the chasm.

"Frodo!"

Frodo looked back at his companions, then the archway in which the Balrog had smashed through, large wings open, a roar emitting from its mouth that shook the entire cavern, dust, rock, and debris falling on top of the as the roar echoed. Goblins and orcs alike began to scramble to ledges, bows drawn, snarling and yapping. Frodo heard the twang of bowstrings, an arrow rushing past him, skinning his cheek. That snapped Frodo out of his frozen state, leaping across the chasm with his eyes shut tightly in fear of falling.

Without a doubt, Aragorn caught the hobbit, but shortly after felt an awful, sharp pain in his shoulder. He didn't have to look to realize that an arrow was embedded in his flesh. From above, an orc snickered and fired again.

"Aragorn, your shoulder!" Frodo cried, eyes widening. Aragorn looked back at the arrow impaling his shoulder, snapping the end off with a grunt of pain, teeth grit. Warm blood gushed from the fresh wound, dripping onto the stone below his feet with a _pitter-pat._ Aragorn ignored the pain, though a slight wince crossed his face.

"Boromir, jump with Legolas! Gandalf, take Merry!"

Boromir hesitantly turned to Gandalf, carefully sliding the hobbit into his arms. Then, he took Legolas onto his back and leapt. His foot nearly missed the step, but Aragorn was quick enough to lash out and grab him as yet another arrow buzzed past his head, hitting against the rock behind them and plummeting to the deep chasm below.

Next, Sam leapt, sure enough being caught by Aragorn, rushing over to Frodo.

The stairway they stood on began to crumble as the Balrog roared, yet again showering them with dust and debris. Pippin was hesitant to leave his cousin behind, but leapt. As he did, the stairway began to give way, forcing Aragorn to quickly pull Pippin back and push the remainder of the fellowship behind him as a large chunk of the stairway crumbled and crashed into the wooden structures below.

"Come, Gimli! Come, Gandalf! Jump! Hurry!"

Gimli leapt from the staircase, missing the step by inches. The ranger grabbed what he could in his attempt to save his companion from an unruly death, fingers grabbing his curly, red beard. "Not the beard!" Gimli shrieked in both pain and embarrassment.

Another arrow struck Aragorn, but this time, embedded in his hip, flaming. Aragorn screamed in pain, despite his best attempt to stifle it, as the fire scalded his flesh. Frodo rushed up and pulled Aragorn back with much effort, the Ranger toppling over him, Gimli coming with. Frodo desperately attempted to put out the arrow.

A hail of arrows rang down upon them, forcing them back, Boromir using his blade in attempt to block the many arrows.

Gandalf picked up Pippin with his free hand and threw him across the bridge once the hail of arrows had temporarily halted, able to feel the Balrog's immense heat burning his back. Pippin hit into the edge, scrambling to grab onto something. Sam was the one to grab Pippin and haul him up. With much effort, the Wizard managed to jump across the gap, this time, the entire fellowship, with the exception of Aragorn, Boromir, and Merry, hauled Gandalf to his feet.

Aragorn forced himself to stand, an arrow now skimming past him and grazing his hand. He growled, but pushed his agony away, and rushed toward the bridge after taking Legolas back into his arms. The fellowship ran across the slender bridge, but Gandalf stopped in the middle of the bridge, turning to face the Balrog that now stomped toward him

"You cannot pass!"

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!" Gandalf shouted. The fellowship turned to face him, Frodo attempted to rush toward Gandalf, but was held back by Aragorn who had moved Legolas yet again to Boromir. The hobbit struggled, causing pain to rack Aragorn's body.

The Balrog stepped forward, drawing itself to full height, wings spread wide as the flames danced and swirled around it. In comparison to the creature, Gandalf was merely a small bug. "Go back to the shadow!"

The Balrog lashed out at Gandalf with its whip, but Gandalf brought up Glamdring and his staff at just the right time to block the attack with a shield of magic. The shield glowed a bright white, surrounding him for a brief second, causing the Balrog to stagger backwards.

"You shall not pass!" Gandalf cried, striking his sword and his staff upon the bridge. The bridge crumbled, right at the Balrog's feet with a bright flash that filled the chasms. The Balrog fell with the bridge, much like a dead bird, falling slowly with a scream of rage as smoke bellowed from its huge body.

Frodo sighed with relief, Aragorn's grip loosening slightly.

The Balrog's fiery whip lashed out at Gandalf's ankles, pulling him down. The wizard's fingers desperately clutched onto the ledge, but his gaze fell upon the fellowship. Frodo was struggling to get to Gandalf, screaming and thrashing, but Aragorn held him back.

"Fly you fools!" Gandalf released the edge, disappearing into the abyss below.

"No!" Frodo screamed, tears falling immediately down his face. As reluctant as Aragorn was to leave Gandalf behind, he pushed past his pain yet again and forced the Fellowship to leave. The once nine, now eight of the Fellowship rush out of the Great Eastern Gate, greeted by sunlight and grass beneath their feet.

Sam, and Pippin slowly sank to their feet, sobbing, while Aragorn leaned against a rock, blood gushing from his wounds and new arrows embedded into his body which rippled with pain. He hid the sorrow in his face, speaking up.

"We must move…"

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir snapped.

"By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with orcs…We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Please…Get them to their feet," Aragorn begged quietly. Boromir hesitantly did as told. Aragorn caught Frodo straying from the fellowship. He tried to call out to him, but felt the words caught in his throat. Finally, he managed to choke out the name.

"Frodo…"

The hobbit turned to face him, tears falling down his face, horrible grief and loss in his features. Frodo slowly walked back, head down, making no eye contact. Aragorn tore his own clothing to bind what he could of wounds, and then set out with the eight members left.

They had lost a Fellowship member, a leader, their wizard, and now, there was a chance of losing both Legolas and Merry. Aragorn released the tears he had held in for so long, sobbing into his hands, hopeless, afraid, hurt, and deeply grieved.

* * *

And there is the end of this chapter. Thank you for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing!

 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_


	4. Chapter 4 -Lothlorien-

I apologize for the poll issue. I have decided after a long break from fanfiction to continue. I would like to take a moment to thank everyone for being patient and supportive. Here is a chapter both as an apology and a thank you.

Translations are at the bottom.

 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_

 **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN LORD OF THE RINGS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS!**

* * *

The fellowship had struggled to reach Lothlorien. No one spoke the entire time they had walked, all had their heads hung and walked with much sorrow in their strides. Frodo had wet tears glistening in his eyes and falling down his face, but each fellowship member was in too deep of grief to take notice.

Boromir took turns carrying Merry and Pippin and when he had not been carrying one of them, he was helping them stand, guiding them along, offering them any water he could give from his canteen. Sam had been doing his best to comfort Frodo, but the dark-haired hobbit only turned his head, occasionally nodding.

Aragorn was solely focused upon Legolas, having quickly tended to his arrow wound and continued. His companion grew weaker and weaker in his arms, every breath was more and more strained. The usual weightless Elf Prince felt even lighter than the Ranger had remembered, his face pale. He weakly trembled, clutching to Aragorn frailly.

"Saesa kwara no', Legolas. Uma il- ona e'," Aragorn whispered quietly to his companion, giving his hand a tight squeeze. The Elf's hand felt so fragile, yet so cold and nearly lifeless. Legolas did not reply, nor did Aragorn expect an answer from the Elf.

He knew they had very little time, and the fact Legolas was still bleeding internally scared Aragorn. Granted, the blood flow had slowed, but the Elf should already be dead, having drowned in his own blood; he miraculously clutched onto life. Never had the Ranger thought he would live to see the day his best friend would be felled. Never had he imagined Legolas's crimson blood staining his hands, nor the Elf Prince's scream eternally trapped in his memory.

 _Then again, no one is truly prepared for everything…_

"Can I…Sit down for just a bit…?" Pippin asked quietly, exhausted. The stars hang over him, he had done a fair amount of walking and despite being given occasional rests upon Boromir's back, he was completely drained of strength.

"Just a bit longer," Sam replied, having tried his best to keep the company up in spirit. "The elves will take us in, we will have good food and a warm place to rest. Mr. Legolas will receive the aid he needs and we'll all be healed up." He then turned to Frodo. "Think of it Mr. Frodo, more elves!"

Despite Sam's efforts, Frodo only nodded and said nothing in return, pushing the topic aside. Sam frowned, deciding to just leave Frodo be. He had tried to at least provide comfort, but time and time again, his companion had shied away from him.

Finally, the fellowship could see large trees towering in the distance, glowing with an otherworldly light, their branches stretched and intertwined like a canopy. Sam's eyes widened, his hand shot out, a bright smile on his face.

"Look, Mr. Frodo! We're here!" Sam chimed happily. They could hear the trickling of streams as they approached Lorien, the soft singing as they entered. Their weary feet sank into the cold, frigid water, refreshing them, the coolness sinking into their bones. None had much dislike for the icy water, rather, they welcomed it.

Aragorn felt relief, knowing he was in familiar lands. Even more relief came to him knowing he could receive aid from the elves, beings who knew far more in medicinal knowledge and healing when it came to races such as humans, hobbits, and dwarves. To be fair, elves specialized in healing, archery, and weaponry.

Yellow flowers of different hues coated the ground, golden leaves above them, silver pillars wrapping around the trees, accompanied with winding staircases, clutching to the trunks of the metallic-colored trees. Gimli nervously shuffled, clutching tightly to the rusted axe he had kept from Balin's Tomb.

"Stay close, young hobbits. They say a Sorceress lives in these woods. An elf witch of terrible power," Gimli hissed, drawing the hobbits closer. "All who look upon her fall under her spell-"

Frodo glanced around in worry, less focused upon the red-haired dwarf's rambles.

 _Frodo…_ _your coming to us is as the footsteps of doom. You bring great evil here, Ringbearer._

Frodo was snapped out of the trance like state, Sam shaking him.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam called quietly, frightened that his companion had been unresponsive for a few seconds.

"-And are never seen again! Well here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily! I have the eyes of a hawk and ears of a fox-" Gimli began, but very quickly, he was silenced as a gleaming arrow was aimed at his head, the sound of bowstrings being drawn filling the air.

The dwarf's dark eyes widened, Aragorn held Legolas a bit closer to him, receiving a quiet groan, while those that could unsheathed their blades. The Lorien soldiers quickly closed in around them and normally the Ranger would have held up his hands in submission, but he was occupied carrying his best friend.

Out of the group of elves stepped out their captain, a golden-haired elf with blue eyes, illuminated by the moonlight. The night breeze blew his locks into his face. He was about to make a remark upon the dwarf who had foolishly boasted about his abilities, but he halted upon seeing Aragorn and Legolas, signaling that the elves lower their weapons with the lower of his hand, his face filling with shock.

"Haldir en' lorien, lye tul a seekien lle aid," Aragorn addressed Haldir in the Elvish tongue. He then spoke in the common tongue. "Legolas is gravely injured. We require your assistance immediately."

The elf stepped toward Legolas and Aragorn, reaching out to touch Legolas's face, hoping the Elf would respond in the slightest bit. To his dismay, he was met with nothing but silence and the feeling of cold beneath his fingertips.

"Eller naa ai coiasira hyarya ten' ho," Haldir replied gently. "You may come with us. The Prince will be taken under our care, but you may not progress any further once at the gates by order of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn."

"The hobbits need aid as well! As does the Ranger," Boromir added, repositioning the hobbit he carried upon his back.

"I understand. The prince is of priority, however," Haldir responded.

"Aragorn, these woods are perilous! We should go back!" Gimli interrupted.

"We are not going back," Aragorn replied bitterly. The dwarf fell silent and the Fellowship continued.

Haldir led the Fellowship to a hill top, not slowing his pace, stepping soundly upon the ground. Several miles towards the South, a large hill could be seen, Mallorn Trees resting upon it's surface. Within the forest of Mallorn trees was the realm of Lorien, gleaming within the moonlight.

Silver, golden, and emerald greeted them. To the east of Caras Galadhon lied the great river, Anduin. Beyond that, miles of empty land rested, but far out in the distance was the faintest gleam of Mordor, cloaked in shadow. Not even the light from the moon nor Lorien was enough to keep the shadows at bay.

Frodo swallowed, looking toward Mordor. Just the very thought of entering those lands sent a shiver crawling down his spine.

Haldir progressed, hurriedly leading the Fellowship to the gates of Lorien. The large gates glowed, a river running through; it was here that the Fellowship was forced to stay. Aragorn reluctantly lent Legolas's form to them, hearing a small cry of pain and a whimper. He wanted to follow, to comfort his companion, but he knew that he was prohibited from doing so.

Aragorn stood by as the elves carried his best friend away into the distance. Many residents of Lorien watched from above, some with interest, others with fear, all elegantly carrying themselves. Argorn, despite feeling incredibly dazed and pained, turned his glance to the fellowship, motioning for them to sit upon the grass under the Mallorn trees and wait…

* * *

There is the end of this chapter. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and following.

Translations:

 _ **Saesa kwara no', Legolas. Uma il- ona e'** **-**_ Please hold on Legolas. Do not give in

 _ **Haldir en' lorien, lye tul a seekien lle aid** \- _Haldir of Lorien, we come seeking aid

 _ **Eller naa ai coiasira hyarya ten' ho -**_ He does not have much time left

 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_


	5. Chapter 5 -Hysteria And Comfort-

Here is the latest chapter! Enjoy my lovelies! Sorry for the long wait, I went to an Imagine Dragons concert yesterday that was pure bliss!  
As always, translations are at the bottom.  
 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_

 _ **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN LORD OF THE RINGS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS!**_

* * *

All Legolas could feel was pure agony. Despite how hard he tried to hide away from the pain, it only discovered him again and again, toying with him like a cat's prey. The Elf Prince felt terrible fear overwhelm him, lost within a dark, empty void.

Was this what death felt like?

When in Aragorn's hold, he had felt his suffering subside, his fear had settled and any emotion that would have overridden him was turned away. He knew he could place his life in Aragorn's hands, that his best friend would assure his survival. Time and time again, Legolas had been the one to carry Aragorn to safety, but now, the roles were reversed.

This brought back memories of the time when he had first met Aragorn, who at the time was just a reckless child. The young boy had climbed a tree, but upon seeing Legolas nearing, he had scrambled to hide, but lost his footing, plummeting into the hard ground below.

Legolas had rushed to immediately check his condition, having heard the crunch of bones and the harsh thud when the boy hit the ground. The young wannabe Ranger had broken a leg and punctured a lung. To be fair, the tree was up rather high and had he landed just right, the fall could have killed him.

The Elf Prince had rushed to take the boy within the care of Elrond and his sons. In all the time it took them to tend to the boy, Legolas was there, refusing to leave his side. The Elf twins, Elladan and Elrohir, had joked about Legolas being Aragorn's guardian spirit, of which Legolas would occasionally shoot them an icy glare.

Despite their concern for their "brother", they had tried to jokingly lighten the mood, re-adverting their attention to Aragorn whenever they were asked to aid him. The Elf prince had said nothing in reply to their rambles, keeping his gaze fixed upon the small boy, taking much interest in him, though he knew not why he had done so at the time. He had stayed by Aragorn's side until he had fully healed, teaching him like an elder brother would his younger brother.

But that was then. This was now. Now, Legolas could only feel two things. Fear that made his heart thunder and a pain that threatened to tear him apart, crashing over him in waves. Each wave was stronger than the last and steadily gained more momentum.

 _W-where am I?_

He could hear voices, but they sounded as if his head were being held underwater and they spoke above him, hardly audible. When they had begun to remove his crimson stained shirt after lying him upon what he could recognize as a bed, fingers grazing the scar upon his chest, their warm, careful touch only sent more agony coursing through him that forced the Elf Prince to let out a blood curdling scream.

 _Why d-does it hurt?! Why is there so much pain?!_

"Calm ndu," he could hear a voice say calmly into his ear, pinning him to the bed by his arms, but he did not recognize the voice, tensing up. The grip around his wrists tightened.

 _Where is A-Aragorn?! Where am I?!_

The Elf Prince could feel the grip tightening even more as his heart began to race, his hands beginning to go numb, aching with pain.

 _I am going to die here…They are going to kill me!_

"Taren Legolas, lle naa hurt. Calm ndu," the voice ordered.

The fear began to grow even stronger in Legolas's mind. He was alone. He was being held captive and he was going to be slaughtered. They could sacrifice him, cut out his heart, torture him, there were so many possibilities. He was going to die alone.

The Elf Prince struggled against the hold, thrashing madly. The more he thrashed, the more he felt the pain embrace him, dragging him deeper and deeper into the darkness. A white-hot pain suddenly shot through him; he could feel warmth spill down his body, stealing his strength, but even more so, his breath.

"Lye naa ie' risk en' losien ho!" a voice shouted.

Legolas finally had found his voice, letting it out in a powerful scream, hysteria taking over. "Aragorn!"

The grip around his wrists loosened, but he continued to thrash with all his might, terrified. The being holding him turned, saying something Legolas's ears could not catch, but he did hear their steps fading away into the distance.

"Lye caela n'uma intent en' harmien lle, taren Legolas. Saesa calm yourself," the voice said quietly, grip loosening even more so. "Let us aid you. I have sent for your companion. Please calm."

Legolas could hardly hear what the voice was saying. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt incredibly heavy, as if dragons' scales were piled upon them. His very breath was caught in his throat, each inhale sending pain racing through him, every exhale worsening it.

* * *

Aragorn was waiting patiently for the signal that he and his fellowship would be admitted through the gates. However, he was met with an elf clothed in silver robes, hurriedly rushing toward him. The Ranger felt his heart leap as the elf approached.

"I' taren yela n'e ten' lle, Aragorn," the Elf spoke softly.

"What does that mean?" Sam asked nervously, glancing between Aragorn and the healer.

"Legolas needs me," Aragorn replied firmly.

"Is Mr. Legolas going to die?!" the gardner asked worriedly, looking up at the Elf. Frodo turned away from them, his head lowered.

"I cannot answer that, young one. Life or death is not mine to decide, but I can influence it."

Sam nodded solemnly, looking back to Frodo who kept his head lowered. Aragorn stepped up, following the healer, up a winding staircase and to the healing rooms, stepping within one of these rooms where his companion was being pinned to the bed.

The white bedsheets were covered in blood, his companion's golden hair matted with crimson, his bare chest heaving, ears lowered against his head, face twisted in pain, tears spilling down his pale cheeks, glistening in the white lamplight that found its place upon the white bark walls. There were many less minor wounds upon the Prince, such as burns, scrapes, and bruises, but the one that was most evident was the gaping wound just below his companion's lung. The healer had kept him pinned, glancing at the Ranger.

"What are you doing to him?!" Aragorn growled. Instinctively, his hand dropped to the cold hilt of his sword, his heart hurting at the sight of his companion being handled in such a way.

"He will not hold still," the healer that had retrieved Aragorn replied, pushing Aragorn's hand from his hilt. "He is tense and alert, sees us as enemy, not friend. We have told him to calm, been gentle, but he only thrashes. He has reopened his wound. If he is not calmed, he will not make it."

"You're pinning him down like he's your prisoner," The Ranger replied darkly, immediately rushing to his companion's side, kneeling beside the bed. Adrenaline began to move through his veins, accompanied by anger.

The healer released Legolas and stepped back, as if sensing Aragorn's mood, allowing the Ranger to take over. He glared at the Healer before taking Legolas's hand, intertwining their fingers, pressing his own hand against bare skin and blood, trying to stop the flow. Legolas hissed weakly in pain, but Aragorn reassuringly squeezed his hand.

"Amin naa sinome, Legolas," The ranger whispered into his companion's ear, resting his head on the edge of the bed. "Please relax. I will not leave you. You are in good hands."

As soon as he had ordered, the Elf Prince relaxed, the pain evident in his face began to lessen, but only by a little. The ranger softly began to hum, trying to keep him calm, his arm already becoming soaked in his companion's warm blood. The more Aragorn hummed and spoke softly to him, the more the Elf Prince relaxed, allowing the Healers to reach him. They began to gather around him with herbs, a rag in a bowl of warm water, and other materials.

The ranger lowered his head, not wanting to watch, took a deep breath and softly began to sing.

"Tinúviel elvanui, Elleth alfirin edhelhael, O hon ring finnil fuinui, A renc gelebrin thiliol…"

The Elf slowly drifted away into what Aragorn hoped was sleep. He begged to the Valar his companion would survive. He was willing to sacrifice anything if it guaranteed Legolas's survival.

The healers had tried to guide him out of the room, but the Ranger refused, holding Legolas's icy hand close to him. More argumentation meant more time lost for his companion, hence the healers had given up their attempts in separating the two. Aragorn sat through screams of pain, squeezing his companion's hand tightly, refusing to meet eyes with the healers, though at any moment, he could pounce at them and slit their throats.

With every scream, the Elf Prince's grip loosened more and more…

 _Do not leave me, Legolas…_

The screams finally came to an end. There were hushed voices that began to leave the room. All seemed silent for a while, besides the strained breathing of Legolas. Aragorn feared what he would find if he raised his gaze from the floor, but the entire room had begun to spin and waves of nausea started to crash into him.

There was a knock upon the door, then steps followed. A figure kneeled beside Aragorn after checking over Legolas, placing a hand to his shoulder. Aragorn recognized the gentle touch of Haldir, though his head pounded and sweat began to drip into his eyes.

"Aragorn," Haldir spoke softly, lifting the Ranger's chin with his own so grey-green eyes met blue, but the Elf Captain's voice sounded fuzzy. "We have done all we can for the Prince. The rest is up to him. The man had demanded you received aid-"

The dark-haired Ranger began leaning forward, but before he could collapse, he found himself in Haldir's arms, being eased to the ground. The world blacked out around him and that is the last he could remember.

* * *

Thank you, lovlies! Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I will give you a little secret. I'm planning on having Thranduil enter the story later on. Thank you for reading, favoriting, reviewing, and following!

 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_

 **Translations:**

 _Calm ndu_ \- Calm down

 _Taren Legolas, lle naa hurt. Calm ndu_ \- Prince Legolas, you are hurt. Calm down

 _Lye naa ie' risk en' losien ho_ \- We are at risk of losing him

 _Lye caela n'uma intent en' harmien lle, taren Legolas. Saesa calm yourself_ \- We have no intent of harming you, prince Legolas. Please calm yourself.

 _I' taren yela n'e ten' lle, aragorn_ \- The prince calls out for you, Aragorn

 _Amin naa sinome, Legolas -_ I am here, Legolas


	6. Chapter 6 -Together-

Hello my lovelies! So sorry for the long wait. Here is the next chapter! The translations are at the bottom.  
 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN LORD OF THE RINGS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.**_

* * *

Haldir had just barely a moment to act, pulling the Ranger forward, easing him to the ground. Already, within the Elf Captain's hold, Aragorn felt limp, his face pale, yet beads of sweat had collected upon his brow. Haldir gently shook him.

"Estel?" Haldir called gently, though he desperately tried to hide the fear in his voice. He received no response from the Ranger, but when he had begun to fear the worst, he was met with ragged breathing. At least that was slight reassurance his companion had not passed on.

The Elf Captain could feel warmth upon his hands, and when he carefully removed one of his hands supporting Aragorn, he found crimson staining his palms and fingertips, dripping between the crevices of his fingers. Haldir had seen blood before, but even then, it was a rare occasion. He couldn't help but stare at the blood, but a soft groan re-averted his gaze to the Ranger below him who faintly trembled.

Haldir, not caring about getting blood upon his uniform, wiped Aragorn's blood onto his garb, smearing carmine over silver. His keen eyesight had quickly found the source of blood that had seeped through the makeshift bandages tied to the Ranger's shoulder.

The Elf Captain quickly undid the bandaging, his fingers weaving between the torn cloth, yet his brow only furrowed in concern at the sight of the wound. While not rather large, it was deep, and a thick black liquid oozed from the wound, mingled with blood. The wound gave off a foul odor, but if an Elf had not inhaled the scent, it would be unnoticed by others. It was at least an inch long, if not, a little bit over an inch, inflamed.

Another wound was found at his hip that too was quickly tended to and as well, blood had dripped from it, but not as much as it had the other wound. The shoulder wound compared to the hip wound was worse, considering the hip wound was caused by a flaming arrow. The flames had cauterized the wound, yet nonetheless, it was also threatening, deep between the Ranger's ribs.

There were other arrow wounds as well, many in fact. All had been quickly tended to, Aragorn's clothing tightly bound around his torso. However, that binding had not stopped the flow of blood from the many arrow wounds. Haldir wondered how the healers had not noticed them, but the blood almost blended in perfectly with Aragorn's dark attire.

The fact the Ranger was able to make it this far without collapsing was rather impressive in itself. Most humans, or other races for that matter, would have collapsed seconds later. It was most likely the sheer determination to keep his companion alive that had sustained Aragorn.

Regardless, the Ranger was losing blood quickly, and Haldir knew that he had to act quickly if it meant the Heir of Isildur's survival. Unfortunately, Haldir was not one that specialized in medicine, nor did he know much of what to do when a companion was injured. Injuries, especially life-threatening ones such as these, were rather uncommon among such skilled elves.

And if one wound was poisoned, there was a chance the others were poisoned as well. However, the Elf Captain already knew poison was in Aragorn's blood without having to do much of anything. The symptoms were all there. Slowed heart rate, strained breathing, a high fever, and paleness. Though, the paleness could be from the loss of blood as well.

A small pool of crimson formed beneath the Ranger, very visible upon the white floor. Haldir feared to leave him, so instead shouted for help. He was only met with silence for several seconds and the strained breathing of Aragorn.

Haldir wished he had the healing abilities the healers carried. That consisted of an actual magic that festered deep within the elves, but many had forgotten how to call upon it over the centuries of living. He wished desperately that he knew how to call upon that power yet again.

The Elf Captain closed his eyes, focusing immensely, digging through his soul to find this healing power. All elves carried it, but not all knew how to execute the powers. Haldir prayed to the Valar that he could unlock the sacred power.

As if on cue, his palms began to glow a slight green, causing Aragorn to grimace. Haldir jumped back, eyes widening, but the green faded. He never expected himself to be able to accomplish such a feat. Even if it was the faintest of a flash of green.

 _I cannot lose focus._

Haldir shut out all other thoughts, even when he had heard the healers steadily approaching the healing rooms. He focused solely on healing Aragorn, imagining the wounds closing upon his companion. His palms glowed a warm green, slowly healing Aragorn's wounds. He could even feel a fraction of the poison leaving him, though it was almost a subconscious feeling.

The Elf Captain was forced to halt his practices. He moved back and looked to the Ranger who lied upon the floor. At least some blood flow had stopped, but not all. Even if Haldir had continued, his strength would not be enough to close the wounds of his companion and the Elf Captain could risk losing his own life in the process.

The healers had hurried up the steps to address Haldir's call. One healer had rushed to Aragorn's aid, another to Haldir, helping him up. He was rather unsteady on his feet, but before he could be escorted out of the room, he spoke up.

"Uma il- separate i' Taur'ohtar ar' i' Taren," he demanded. The healers hesitantly nodded, but before Haldir could speak another word, he was quickly escorted out of the room. The last thing he saw before being escorted was Aragorn being lifted into a healer's arms, his head hanging limply.

 _Please be alright, Estel…_

Despite Haldir's orders, the Lorien healers had attempted to separate Aragorn from Legolas. Even in his unconscious state, the ranger refused to leave Legolas's side, trying to clutch onto anything to keep him from leaving the room. The more he struggled, the more the poison infected his blood.

The healers eventually had released Aragorn, having no other option but to tend to him on the floor. They were nearly spent of their magic but used the remainder of it to cure the poison in the Ranger's system. If they had argued amongst themselves for any longer, the Ranger would have died. He was already incredibly weak, his pulse barely there along with his breath.

The Healers' intentions were to assure Aragorn would tend to himself when he was to wake, not sit for hours beside his companion, getting little to no rest. They could always slip sleeping herbs into his drink, but then again, he could refuse water all together.

As if sensing Aragorn's pain, a small whimper came from Legolas's throat. Whether it was heard or not, the healers continued their practice. They had removed Aragorn's shirt to better tend to the wounds, also removing the binding that had prevented him from bleeding out up until recently.

The Ranger's skin was just as pale as the floor below him, blood dripping down his sides and rolling down his back. His dark hair shadowed his nearly lifeless face, his chest slowly rising and falling, but not in the steady rhythm of breath.

Aragorn was fading in and out, all voices around him sounded fuzzy. Yet, his entire body felt ablaze, as was the effect of the poison. It sapped his strength and his life, quickly travelling through him. If it reached his heart, he was sure he would perish within seconds.

A fast-paced poison was struggling against the Elves' abilities, reaching ever closer to the Ranger's heart. He felt a steady thundering in his chest more and more, the poison beginning to send him into a stage of hysteria, taking him over.

 _I do not want to die. I cannot die. I have to live…_

A healer pulled a phial from his pouch and uncorked it, holding it to Aragorn's partially opened lips. A cool liquid was forced down his throat, even though his head was slightly elevated to make the attempt easier. The Ranger could barely cough it up with the strength he carried, but he managed to ingest most of what had been given to him, the remainder lost being wiped from his chin.

What he had ingested was a medicine with the purpose of slowing his heart rate even more, putting his body in a relaxed state. By doing this, the poison would move slower throughout his system, giving the healers more time to tend to him. Unfortunately, it only was more convincing to Aragorn that he was going to die.

A healer had disappeared and returned with a cold cloth, brushing the hair from the Ranger's face, pressing the compress to his head. If the poison did not kill their victim, the fever would.

Aragorn could feel his heart steadily slowing as each second passed, becoming less and less tense.

 _N_ o _! I have to fight!_

The Ranger desperately fought against what he believed to be the poison, but as he struggled, a familiar touch brushed against his arm before their fingers intertwined. Legolas had managed to take Aragorn's hand in his own, even in his weakened state, wanting to be there for his companion.

Aragorn hesitantly gave into the medicine, relaxing. The healers tended to his arrow wounds, cleansing them with an herbal salve and sewing what they could, healing the deep gaps within his body when they had no other choice, though Aragorn could hardly feel the pain.

Finally, the torment was over, and the healers had bandaged Aragorn's torso, but kept the cold compress on his head. He was moved to the bed, placed beside Legolas, given a medicine to aid with the recovery. The Elf Prince subconsciously snuggled into his companion, pulling him a bit closer.

The two drifted into what would be a long sleep, side by side, feeling safe.

* * *

Thank you for reading, following, reviewing, and favoriting! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!  
 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_

Translations:  
 _ **Uma il- separate i' Taur'ohtar ar' i' Taren**_ \- Do not seperate the Ranger and the Prince.


	7. Chapter 7 -Even The Smallest-

Sorry for the long wait. My mother is in the hospital and won't be returning anytime soon. She's having terrible pain from her surgery...I will have to take a break from writing to aid in the household and aid my mother. Thank you for following, reading, reviewing, and enjoying!

 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN LORD OF THE RINGS!**_

* * *

Frodo waited anxiously, terrified that Aragorn was not returning. Even he had noticed the blood upon the Ranger's hand when he had leaned against the Mallorn tree, but he had hoped it was Legolas's blood, not Aragorn's. However, as Frodo thought back upon it, he recalled the blood was still wet, not dried, glistening in the moonlight.

An Elf approached them, though he was not Haldir. Frodo swallowed, looking up at the tall Elf who bowed his head in slight acknowledgement.

"Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn wish to see you, Ringbearer. Your companions will be taken into our care, but you must follow me when we separate," the Elf spoke, his voice gentle.

"Where's the Elf? And the Ranger?" Gimli demanded to know, getting rather impatient. The Elf held up a hand to silence him, sighing deeply.

Gimli sneered under his breath, but followed as the Elf turned his back, gracefully walking up the white marble stairs. Frodo followed close behind, subconsciously clutching to the ring that he wore around his neck, finding the cold object to be rather soothing.

"Are you still worried about Mr. Legolas and Aragorn Frodo?" Sam asked his companion, noticing his nervous fidgeting behavior. Frodo hesitated, but nodded slightly. The Gardener put his arm around Frodo's neck. "Don't worry, alright? They're safe here and we're safe under the protection of the elves. You need some good sleep, Mr. Frodo, after you are done speaking with Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn that is."

Frodo only nodded again, letting out a heavy sigh. This whole time he had been holding back tears, feeling overwhelming sorrow at the loss of Gandalf; the knowledge that he may be the death of two others caused more tears to swell up in his eyes and his sorrow to only sink deeper into his soul.

 _Why did Bilbo leave this Ring for me…?_

The Ringbearer closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but when his eyes fell shut, he could see the darkness of Moria engulfing him. His eyes snapped open, shivering. Everything about this adventure only made him long more and more for Hobbiton.

At Hobbiton, he could have a comfortable bed to stretch out upon, green grasses beneath his wooly feet, a cup of tea to drink on crisp Autumn days, and the rays of sunshine shining through his window to greet him in the morning.

But within this adventure, he had walked through bitter rain, endured winds that whipped his back, have his shoulder impaled by a Morgul blade, travelled up and down steep, slick mountain paths, and suffered the loss of his Uncle's good friend. He dared not think about what lie ahead.

As the fellowship was led to a large Mallorn tree that stood out from all the rest, the Elf turned to look to them.

"The Ringbearer must follow me. The remainder of you will be tended to, both for injury and fatigue. You will be gifted a place of rest as well as food and drink," The Elf spoke. "The Ringbearer will join you later."

"Thank you!" Sam chimed, turning to see a group of Elves approaching them. The Fellowship were carefully guided away, leaving the Elf and Frodo alone.

"Come," the Elf said, placing a hand on Frodo's shoulder, guiding him up the path.

A white light was cast before them, nearly blinding. From the light stepped Galadriel and Celeborn. Frodo's eyes widened at the sigh of the Lorien Lady and Lord. Not surprisingly, they were beautiful beings, ageless in appearance.

Lady Galadriel carried hair of gold, eyes a deep blue, a crown centered perfectly atop her head. Her dress was adorned in jewels, glittering in the light of Lorien. Coleborn's hair was too gold, his clothing consisting of both grey, silver, and robes of white. The graceful Elves met Frodo at the bottom of the stairway, but he was in too much of a shock to formally address them.

The Elf that had lead Frodo to them bowed slightly before departing. It was Lady Galadriel's calm, yet soothing voice that had slowly drawn him from his trance like state.

"Welcome, Frodo of The Shire," she spoke, offering him a slight smile. He returned the smile with his own, but only for a brief second. The smile faded from her face. "Word has reached my ears of Gandalf's departure from this world. While it saddens me, I sense a deeper sorrow within you and your Fellowship. You all walk with much grief in your hearts and mourn in your strides. However, out of them all, I see your heart weighs the heaviest…"

Frodo lowered his head, choking back tears. "It is my fault. I was the one who decided we go through the Mines of Moria…"

"Decisions have consequences, young one, but not all consequences are as you would expect," Lord Celeborn spoke, his voice just as melodic and wise as Lady Galadriel's.

"The burden lies on me. Had I continued the path up Caradhas, we would still have Gandalf with us and Legolas would not be injured. Neither would Aragorn, Pippin, or Merry," Frodo replied quietly, fidgeting with the ring upon his necklace chain.

"Your companions would have perished in the cold. Your kin would be the first to succumb to the climates," Lady Galadriel countered. Frodo shrunk back just a little at that statement. He was positive the blame rested upon him, but he only nodded.

"We will house your companions; however, we cannot guarantee a prolonged stay. As long as the ring rests in Lorien, evil will follow," Lord Celeborn stated, his gaze centering upon the ring clutched in the Hobbit's palm. The Elf Lord's gaze made Frodo want to shrink back, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"You may depart to rest now, Frodo," Lady Galadriel said. "The Prince of The Woodland Realm and the Heir of Isildur both rest within our halls. Yet, I cannot guarantee they will survive. This quest balances on the edge of a knife, slowly turning."

Celeborn nodded. "We will do what we can, but do not think the loss of Gandalf will easily pass those of Lorien."

Frodo bowed one last time before being guided away by an Elf, his head hung, clutching even tighter to the ring. He allowed a tear to fall down his face, hitting the floor below as a song began to fill the air, melodic yet full of much sorrow.

The Ringbearer was lead to a large tree, yet inside, intertwined with the tree's roots, were soft beds, Gimli already lied asleep, as did Merry and Pippin, yet Sam was awake, listening to the lament of the elves. He wished he had known what they were saying, but just the tune from their very hearts was enough to touch his soul.

Boromir sat away from the Fellowship, staring at the ground, his arms resting on his knees and his hands interlocked. It was hard to see his face in the moonlight, but even Frodo caught sight of tears streaming down his cheeks. The Ringbearer hesitated, but eventually stepped up to the Gondorian, placing a hand to his arm.

Boromir glanced at him, wiping tears from his face.

"You need rest, Boromir," Frodo said quietly. The Gondorian said nothing but nodded. Frodo went to join Sam at the tree, sitting beside him.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Frodo?"

For once, Frodo wished he hadn't asked about how he felt. He felt horrible, and that was the plain truth. How could Lady Galadriel say it was not his fault? He had been the one to freeze up in the face of the troll, he had been the one to decide the path to the Mines. He was the one who always needed help. He was the one who carried the ring. He was the one responsible for everything.

"I'm doing alright Sam," Frodo replied, plopping down beside the Gardener. The bed was very comfortable, and almost immediately Frodo found comfort in it, wanting to rest and sleep all the troubles away, go to his mind where he could pretend none of this ever happened, that he was still in the shire tending to the garden with Sam while Pippin tried to climb the tree above Hobbiton and Merry shouted at him to come down.

Frodo drifted to sleep as Sam gazed at the stars above them, continuing to let his soul be filled with the sorrow and heartache of the elves.

It was at least a few hours before morning when Frodo woke. His dreams were full of Moria, replaying the scenes over and over in his head. He tossed and turned, but he could never find peace in those dreams. Wanting to end it all, he forced himself awake, sitting up. The rest of the Fellowship were silently sleeping, the elves had stopped their singing.

All was eerily quiet. The only thing Frodo could hear was the soft howl of the wind, blowing through the branches and shaking the leaves upon the Lorien trees. The Ringbearer found that he was still breathing heavily from the nightmares he had endured. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, carefully stepping away from the Fellowship, onto the cold, marble floor.

Frodo saw a figure pass by, glowing with a bright light, holding a pitcher of water. Frodo recognized the figure as Lady Galadriel. She turned to look at him and the Hobbit found himself drawn to her, wanting to follow. Her bare feet silently stepped across the ground, leading him to a Pedestal.

The pedestal was branched out like a tree, but in the center of the pedestal was a shallow silver basin. Lady Galadriel stepped up to the pedestal, turning to Frodo who stepped toward her wearily.

"Will you look through the mirror?" She asked, her voice echoing in Frodo's head.

"What will I see?" Frodo replied, stepping back.

"Even the wisest cannot tell," Lady Galadriel replied, pouring the water from the pitcher into the basin. "For the Mirror shows many things. Things that were…" she poured the water lower to the basin. "Things that are…" she poured the water from a waist level height. "And some things…That have not yet come to pass."

Frodo stepped up to the basin, hesitantly peering into the mirror like surface. At first, he saw nothing but the starry sky reflecting from the mirror. Then, the image changed to a figure clothed in white, walking down a long, winding road. Frodo leaned just a bit closer, his face lighting up in hope as the figure gazed back at him, being Gandalf.

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried happily, feeling a spark of hope light within him. He reached his hand out to the mirror, but the image suddenly changed to the shire, blazing and smoking. Fire blew in the wind, hobbits walked in a single file line, chained by their ankles and hands, whipped by orcs, bodies strewn across all of Bag End. But within the mists were Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Rosie, all being led into a large black brick factory.

"No!" Frodo screamed, blue eyes widening, but despite his horror, he continued to watch. The image changed, Frodo could see himself in the mirror, his eyes full of tears and sorrow. Very quickly, the image altered to Legolas standing guard over him, screaming in agony, sinking to his knees. Frodo felt tears spring to his eyes, trying to pull away, but he was glued to the mirror.

The Mirror showed a white tree, ablaze in flames, smoke filling the air. He saw a large spider hissing, then a creature crawling toward Sam and Frodo in their sleep, muttering under his breath.

Again, the image altered, showing an Elven figure riding into Lorien upon a white stag, dismounting. He held his head high, walking with much grace. Frodo could tell he held high status. Another image. Legolas collapsing, curling in upon himself, coughing up blood. Finally, there was a powerful white flash.

Within the mirror was nothing more than an evil, flaming eye. The eye grew larger and larger, Frodo found the Ring being drawn to the Mirror like some force, being forced to lean in closer, the tips of his curly hair being singed as flames rose from the water. He gripped onto the edge of the basin, struggling against the force as whispering began to fill his head, the Ring drawing ever so closer to the eye.

Frodo threw himself back with much effort, shouting again, "No!" falling flat on his back, breathing heavily. The water boiled, steam rising from it. Lady Galadriel turned to Frodo, her voice cold.

"I know what it is you saw...for it is also in my mind. It is the future, Frodo. It is what will come to pass if you should fail," Lady Galadriel spoke. Frodo shakily looked up at her, then the ring clutched in his palm, breathing unevenly.

"If you ask of it from me, I will give you this One Ring," Frodo replied shakily, standing. Lady Galadriel looked shockingly at him, but her expression eventually faded into a smirk, drawing closer to the Hobbit, reaching out to the Ring.

"You offer it to me freely…I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this," She breathed. "The Fellowship is breaking. It has already begun. He will try to take the ring. You know of whom I speak. One by one, it will destroy them all."

A dark aura came about her as she rose, laughing. Her voice seemed to echo all throughout Lorien, the lights flickered, and the area grew dark as the wind began to blow. Frodo felt overwhelming terror, stepping back, wanting to run. "In place of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen! Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Treacherous as the sea! Stronger than the foundations of the Earth! All shall love me and despair!"

Frodo drew back, frozen in terror. The lights began to bash away the darkness, the aura fading from Lady Galadriel. Her dark appearance returned to the light, beautiful and wise Lady he had come to familiarize himself with. The Elven Lady laughed gently.

"I pass the test. I will diminish and go into the west and remain Galadriel," she told herself, sighing, looking back at Frodo who trembled uncontrollably. A small whimper escaped the Hobbit's lips, feeling his confidence shrink.

"I cannot do this alone," he said, his voice small.

"You are the Ringbearer, Frodo. To bear a Ring of Power is to be alone. This task was appointed to you and if you do not find a way, no one will," Lady Galadriel replied. Frodo looked down at the ring in his palm, closing his hand around it.

"Then I know what I must do. It's just…I'm afraid to do it," Frodo said, lowering his head. Lady Galadriel knelt so they were eye level, embracing him. Frodo embraced her in return, feeling the thundering of his heart slow.

"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future."

* * *

Chapter end. No translations this time! Thank you so much for your support!

 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_


	8. Chapter 8 -Ask The Heir Yourself-

So sorry for the long wait, my lovelies. High school has gotten me all tangled up... I hope you will enjoy this chapter and accept it as an apology for the long hiatus! Thank you all in advance for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing!

 ** _-WingedIceWolf_**

 _ **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE LORD OF THE RINGS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS! THEY BELONG TO J.R.R TOLKIEN AND PETER JACKSON!**_

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Frodo woke in the early morning. Gentle sunlight streamed through the Mallorn trees and a gentle breeze wove its way through the branches. For once in what felt like years, though it was really months, the Ringbearer felt peace…

However, he didn't recall falling asleep. Glumly, he tried to recall when he had given in to a night of slumber. His blue eyes flickered to Merry and Pippin who lied beside him, sleeping near soundlessly, their pale faces holding slight hints of pain. As he whipped his head around to search for the Gondorian, he was met with nothing but elves passing by in their fine clothing, their hair delicately braided behind their heads.

The singing of the elves had again started, and already, Frodo found himself lost in their melodic voices, nearly forgetting his cousins and the fact Boromir was gone.

A few feet from Frodo, Sam lay sprawled out with his legs crossed, writing in a journal the elves had gifted him, muttering under his breath and tapping a pencil to his chin. He seemed so focused on his work that he didn't take notice of his companion.

"Up so early, are you Sam?" Frodo asked gently, running one hand through his curly hair. His gardener turned to face him and flashed him a gentle, welcoming smile, the sunlight shining on his face and revealing his sparkling brown eyes.

"Sorry, I just have had so much on my mind and it's nice to let it all out once in a while, Mr. Frodo. Don't you agree?" Sam sighed, his smile dimming. He set the pencil down and closed his journal, setting it beside his bedspread. "How about we go down to the streams and relax a bit?"

"Who's going to watch Merry and Pippin?" Frodo asked hesitantly, his gaze yet again coming to rest upon his cousins.

"Don't worry, Mr. Frodo," Sam began, going over to check on Merry and Pippin, kneeling beside the forms curled beneath the blankets. "The elves will keep us safe."

Frodo nodded slightly and stood, his back popping in many various places as he stretched in the warmth of the sun. He let out a slight groan, shaking his head and looking around. He almost expected to see Aragorn and Legolas beside them or on their feet somewhere nearby, but then the memories replayed in his head.

Blood he would never be able to wash from his hands… Screams he could never unhear… Lifeless faces he could not un-see… He shuddered and let out a small whimper. As he looked up, he could see a fairly large Mallorn tree with several lanterns lining it, the lights within the lanterns flickering in an almost ghostly way. Several times throughout the night, he had seen elven healers dressed in their robes disappear into the tree and reappear outside of it, whispering in tongues he did not comprehend.

 _I hope they are alright…_ Frodo thought to himself grimly, subconsciously wandering forward a few steps, a frown upon his face as he clutched the ring at his neck. He felt warm tears begin to form in his eyes, keeping them back was definitely a challenge. He wanted to break down and sob for all the pain he had caused the Fellowship, for the loss of Gandalf and now two other companions whose lives he had jeopardized.

A warm, yet heavy hand was placed on his shoulder, startling him and causing him to stagger forward, instinctively unsheathing Sting with a hiss of steel upon leather. Almost in that instant, he could tell it was not Aragorn who had approached him, he didn't even have to look to confirm that. The Gondorian who had tried to comfort him stepped back, spreading his hands in apology.

"Sorry, I did not intend to startle you…" Boromir stated gently. "I was hoping… If you'd allow… That maybe I could join you and Sam at the streams…"

"I… U-um," Frodo began, unable to find the right words. He was still trembling from a simple hand on his shoulder. Straightening himself and taking a deep breath, he sheathed Sting, gently muttering an apology.

 _You are a fool, Frodo… Maybe this is why they were harmed so easily. Because you could not summon the courage to fight for yourself…_

Sam quickly jogged up to Frodo, a hint of panic in his voice. "Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?"

"I'm fine," Frodo replied a little bitterly, causing his companion to flinch. Without another word, he turned to leave, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Sam sighed. He just couldn't seem to figure Frodo out. One minute, he was standing in silence with his head hung, the next, he looked as if he were poised to attack, threatening and harsh. Rarely did Sam see a hint of the Frodo he knew by heart since Gandalf's death.

Sam closed his eyes for a few seconds as he followed Frodo, listening to the rushing of icy waters and singing of the elves as a gentle breeze greeted him, followed by the gentle music of birds. Then slowly, he started reciting a poem he had written the previous night.

" _Mournful singing for our lost Mithrandir,_

 _Fills my ears with the sorrowed songs of their souls…_

 _To us, what had once been so near,_

 _Had greatly paid ever so dear our toll…_

 _How now will we press onward?_

 _When our much-loved Gandalf is gone?_

 _Our lives seem to be spiraling downward…_

 _Tell me, where did we go wrong…?"_

"Well written," Boromir commented gently. Sam thanked him as the three walked to the stream, but yet again. Frodo was too lost in his own sea of emotions to really pay them mind. When they arrived, there was no one besides them at the streams, of which Frodo was grateful. He wanted a little time to himself without the creeping judgmental eyes of others.

The Ringbearer sighed a heavy sigh, looking at the area around him. The Mallorn trees stretched overhead them, a large stream running through their area and disappearing in a tangle of trees, glimmering from the sunlight overhead. The trickling of the water over stones was rather comforting, reminding Frodo of the waters he had visited as a young halfling, throwing stones into them and pretending to fight off invisible trolls, ending up soaked.

Sam stepped hesitantly into the water, immediately drawing back at the sudden coldness. After a few more attempts, he became adjusted to the waters, coming to place both feet within and sit upon the grassy banks. He let out an elongated sigh, closing his eyes.

Slowly, but surely, Frodo followed pursuit, enjoying the feeling of the mountain waters gushing through his toes, his wooly feet turning slightly pink. He remembered how frozen his feet had felt at the Pass Of Caradhas, up to his knees in snow.

Frodo expected Boromir to join them, but after a few moments, he found the Gondorian only staring at the waters, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade, a sad and lost look in his grey-blue eyes. His orange hair shadowed his face and his head was tilted as if in shame.

"Boromir…?" Frodo called. The Gondorian's eyes rose, meeting with Frodo's. In those eyes, Frodo indeed could see shame, loss, grief, and perhaps even regret, tears staining his cheeks. Frodo bit his lower lip, crossing his hands in his lap and staring at the water below, shifting small pebbles with his feet.

"How about we make a deal…?" The Ringbearer began. "I'll let you know what's on my mind if you tell me what's bothering you. I know I'm not very persuasive but… I just don't know what else to do, really."

There was nothing but silence between the three of them, Sam sitting up to look at Boromir expectantly. The Son Of Denethor huffed heavily and nodded, muttering, "Okay…" wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his sleeve. He came to sit beside Frodo, too crossing his hands in his lap.

"Last night… I-I heard her voice in my head…" Boromir started, stuttering, trembling gently. "she spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor, and she said to me: 'Even now, there is hope left.' But I cannot see it...I-it is long since we had any hope. My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing and o-our…our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right... and… I would do it, I would see the glory of Gondor restored…"

Both Sam and Frodo sat in silence, thinking over his statements in their own heads. They both nodded and beckoned him to continue. There was silence for another few minutes with the exception of the before Boromir went on.

"You have not seen it… But the White Tower of Ecthelion glimmers like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze..." His voice cracked, more tears spilled from his eyes as he held back sobs. "H-have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"

With that, Boromir broke down, sobbing into his hands. For a few seconds, Frodo was unsure of what to do, but it was Sam who immediately got up and sat beside Boromir, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Mr. Boromir. Aragorn will not allow Gondor to fall," Sam said with complete confidence.

"Aragorn may not survive…" Frodo interrupted quietly. Boromir looked up at Frodo worryingly.

"What makes you believe that…?"

"It's my fault…" The Ringbearer replied, now taking his turn to hang his head. "I killed Gandalf. I put Aragorn and Legolas's life in jeopardy… It's all my fault…"

"I do not believe that…" Boromir stated gently, sniffling. "But… Perhaps you should ask the Heir of Isildur himself…"

* * *

And there is the ending! Thank you all for being so patient and supportive! Hope to see you all soon again, my lovelies!

 _-WingedIceWolf_


	9. Chapter 9 -News From Lorien-

Thank you for being so patient, my lovelies! Here is another chapter while I still have the time to write. I guess I got my motivation back thanks to a friend of mine who likes to do head cheers! :P

As always, thanks for reading, favoriting, reviewing, and following! Enjoy! As always, translations are at the bottom.

 _ **-WingedIceWolf**_

 _ **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN LORD OF THE RINGS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS!**_

* * *

Thranduil sat gracefully upon his throne, his legs crossed and his staff balanced perfectly in his left hand as his platinum blonde streaks of hair fell slightly over his broad shoulders. The King of Mirkwood sighed heavily as he watched Sindarin elves come and go without little of a word. Usually, he would receive the daily bows and praise, a few offerings, of which he was thankful, but all he wanted was his son back home where he could be safe.

Ever since Legolas had attended the call of Elrond, Thranduil had a growing fear for his son. Since the Prince had left and joined the Fellowship, Thranduil had only heard from him once.

He closed his winter blue eyes and tapped his fingers against the large Elk horns that served as armrests upon his throne. The King recalled what the letter had said a million times over, but it never ceased to play again and again in his head. Almost as if a reminder of his failure…

 _"_ _Ada,_

 _As you probably had expected, I am now one of the nine members that makes up this Fellowship of The Ring, having pledged myself to Frodo, the Ringbearer. It is true. The ring lies upon a chain around a Halfling's neck whose fears match similarly my own. While hope may seem frail, we have nothing more left to go off of. Times are dark and we must act._

 _I will be leaving to restore peace to Middle Earth along with the eight other members. Two of our members should be beings familiar to you. Gandalf the Gray and Estel. The other six consists of four hobbits, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Perigrin Took, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, the dwarf, Gimli son of Gloin, and the man, Boromir of Gondor._

 _I just hope I can keep my head with the dwarf traveling alongside us. Already, he seems prideful and quite arrogant. But only time will tell. As for Estel, little has changed since the months we have spent apart. He remains quiet, secretive, and hardly utters a word of his past. At times I can almost sense his insecurities, his fear to take back what is rightfully his to keep. But he will not…_

 _The roads are treacherous and long, meaning contact between us will be limited. For how long, I cannot say, but I promise to you I shall do my best in keeping you close and updated on my current journey. Fear not for my safety, Ada. Estel has always had my back and I, his. With a wizard in our company, I believe we have nothing to fear. But I will not believe that until I have truly seen what this journey has to offer us._

 _I hope to hear from you soon, Ada. I will return home._

 _-Legolas."_

That letter had been six months ago. Worry was eating away continuously at the King. He knew and reminded himself again and again that contact was limited, but that never ceased his worry. He was a father who had lost his wife. Just losing his Tirinqui, his Ithildin, tore his world apart. Everything had shattered. Once, he used to laugh and smile. Once, he had held light in his eyes. Once, he had loved. But all that was taken from him…

Legolas was all Thranduil had left. And if he lost Legolas, the King was sure he would take his own life to join them in death. He could not live without his last little leaf, nor could he bear the thought of him being harmed. Knowing he was out there and exposed to anything and everything that could grip ahold of him filled Thranduil with unbearable apprehension.

Time and time again, he had wanted to search for his Greenleaf, but leaving the palace alone was something he could not risk. He was capable of fighting, as was Legolas, but if the King were struck down, the entirety of Mirkwood would be chaotic and Legolas would be forced to take the throne in his place.

That was something Thranduil did not want to burden Legolas with. The responsibilities of a King were heavy indeed. Coupling that with being a father too was difficult. Often, he found himself taking his frustrations and overwhelmed emotions out on his son when he should be supporting and encouraging his Legolas.

It was far too late. Thranduil had pushed Legolas away again and again and after the Battle of The Five Armies, the two hardly held contact. Legolas would return to Mirkwood for a few months then set off again to meet with Aragorn, but during that time, Legolas would hardly speak to his father. Many nights, Thranduil had stared at the heavens and gracefully walked the earth, his eyes sparkling with starlight as he breathed, "What have I done wrong?" to the Valar above.

Was it really too much to ask for his son's safety? Granted, Legolas's happiness also held significant importance to Thranduil. However, Thranduil often contemplated as to if he were too controlling of Legolas's life. Since the events of the Battle of The Five Armies, his control over Legolas had eased, allowing him to come and go as he pleased.

It hurt Thranduil to know that the last person who mattered the most to him had drifted so far apart from him…

The king's thoughts were interrupted as an Elf rushed up the winding path, his golden hair flowing as he ran to the throne. The Sindarin guards stopped the approaching Elf, crossing their spears to prevent him from progressing.

The courier sighed and pulled a seal from around his neck, showing a swan, being the seal of Galadriel. With that, the two guards nodded and parted, allowing him to pass. Thranduil quickly wiped the tears from his face, a spark of hope igniting within him as he stood, walking down his throne to meet with the elf.

The courier bowed before Thranduil's feet, an arm over his chest as he knelt on one knee to do so, gently speaking, "Amin heru, Thranduil. Amin brien news tuulo' Lorien."

"Mani news uma lle brien amin?" Thranduil replied, a hint of hope in his voice. The courier looked up at him, waiting for permission to rise, receiving a nod from Thranduil. The Elf rose, a grave expression on his face. The Mirkwood King's heart sank as he prepared himself for the next words.

"Legolas has been badly wounded. He came to us knocking on death's doorstep," The courier spoke in the common tongue. "Estel had carried him to safety, but he himself was badly wounded. They had crossed into the mines of Moria. Gandalf has fallen… Legolas may not survive…"

Thranduil stood in shock for a few seconds, his world still. Silence filled the halls of Mirkwood as the King recoiled, turning, holding back tears. Choking back a sob, he replied, straightening himself.

"Thank you for your time. You may rest here for as long as you require before you set out again. I will provide you with food and drink as well as a bed."

"Hannon le, amin heru."

With that, Thranduil allowed the courier to leave. He paced his throne room for several seconds, tears falling down his eyes, hitting the floor below him. The guards remained at their posts, though they occasionally glanced back at their King who allowed small sobs to escape from time to time.

Finally, the King wiped his tears away, coming to a decision.

"Gather a group of my finest archers and warriors. I will meet my son in Lothlorien…" He spoke gently to his guards. The two Sindarin elves nodded and left their posts, leaving Thranduil on his own. The King clenched his fists and returned to his throne, burying his hands in his palms, running his fingers through his hair to try and relax himself, but the tears only continued to flow from his eyes.

He could not lose another one… He could not lose his Greenleaf.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

 ** _-WingedIceWolf_**

Translations:

 _ **Ada**_ \- _Father_

 _ **Tirinqui** _\- _Queen_

 _ **Ithildin**_ \- _Moon-star_  
 _ **  
Amin heru, Thranduil. Amin brien news tuulo' Lorien.** \- My lord Thranduil. I bring news from Lorien._

 _ **Mani news uma lle brien amin?**_ \- _What news do you bring me?_


	10. Attention!

_**I apologize for not being able to update this story. I sprained my thumb around Christmas and am still recovering from it. By doctor's orders, I'm to not do strenuous activities with it. So in the meantime, I need to focus on my schooling and take it easy. Thank you all in advance!**_

 ** _-WingedIceWolf_**


	11. Help From My Readers!

**Hello all! Sorry for not updating, I've gotten writer's block. So now, I'm allowing you lovely readers to help choose what the next chapter should be about. PM me or leave a review. Should there be bonding moments between Boromir and Merry and Pippin as Boromir tends to them? Should there be more bonding between Aragorn and Legolas? Should there be more bonding between Sam and Frodo? And lastly, should I focus more on Legolas's internal thoughts? Thank you all in advance!**

 **-WingedIceWolf**


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